Sharing Space with a Ghoul

Over the next three days, Irie did his best to avoid Lulu while trying not to be overly rude. It was driving him nuts. He wanted nothing more than to bang some pipes and sneak up on her in the bathroom (always the biggest scare and where people felt the most vulnerable) to gradually appear in the mirror. That was always a big hit! In a totally not a fan way.

When her stuff arrived, Irie stood in the corner by the stairs watching anxiously as the strangers moved about and shifted things to wherever Lulu directed. He did help a little when asked, but the instant someone suggested he help bring stuff inside from outside, he vanished. He was upstairs so fast, it almost seemed like he literally vanished, not jyst metaphorically. After that, he stayed up in his room for the rest of the day and well into the next.
 
The following day was a whirlwind of action for Lulu. The movers arrived promptly at 9 with her stuff and spent most of the morning bringing everything inside and setting up her furniture. She had spotted Irie watching all the commotion from the bottom of the stairs and asked him to help her sort out the kitchen, thinking he might like to know what utensils she had brought and where to find them once everything had settled down.

She had once again opened all the windows downstairs, to let in the fresh air and always be in earshot if the movers needed something. It was through the window over the sink that one of the men stuck his head inside and asked for an extra pair of hands to help shift something in the van to avoid things breaking. Catching sight of Irie for the first time, the man directed him request at him, rather than Lulu, which gave her a moments pause. It was her stuff wasn’t it? Did the mover think she, as a girl, wasn’t good enough to help them? She looked over at where Irie had been a second before to see his reaction to this, but found herself looking at empty air. Looking around at the living room in surprise, she thought she heard his door upstairs click shut. Shrugging she went to help the men instead, telling them that her roommate was rather shy to excuse his sudden disappearance.

Even when the movers had gone Irie didn’t reappear. Lulu didn’t notice at first, busy unpacking and sorting through the boxes the movers had left piled in her room. Only the next day, when that task was mostly complete did she realise she hadn’t seen him around since the incident in the kitchen. She didn’t think much of it, thinking that he wanted to give her space and time to settle in, but when the second day passed without a peep from upstairs, she started to wonder. Though she knew reading the manuals was important and mandatory prep for her job, it was still rather dull and repetitive, leaving her brain plenty of time to worry about what she might have done wrong to upset him.

She was sitting curled on the porch in a patch of sunlight, a cup of tea and a plate of store bought cookies next to her and another boring hand book in her lap, watching a patch of long reedy grass near the pavement sway to and fro in a light breeze. Tomorrow would be her first day truly on the job, her first shift actually on call for any problems that might arise. She had spent the morning making sure her truck was fully prepared and loaded with whatever she might need in almost any situation but now found her thoughts once again drifting to her reclusive roommate. She took another sip of tea, wondering what she could do. Setting the cup back down, it clinked lightly against the plate of cookies. The sound sparked an idea and she jumped up, letting the hand book fall to the ground without a second glance as she bounced into the kitchen. She would make cookies! Noone could stay shut in their room if the whole house smelled of fresh baked cookies, she was sure of that.
 
Irie hid in his room. Oh, he tried to rationalize it as "resting," but no, he was full-on hiding. It had been quite a while since the house had been so open and filled with light. Being downstairs with the light tickling his toes and strangers thundering in and out and changing everything, there was no control. What he had gained in the last few months was now lost. All of it gone.

He was being overly dramatic and he knew it, but that didn't stop the shudders of fear every time he thought of the event. Now all was still and quiet once more, and he could rest. And hide. Hiding was a big thing for him. So was scaring and creeping people out, but there was no longer a call for that. So what was he supposed to do now?

So now he was hiding and moping.

Then he smelled cookies. Cookies? Why cookies? That was a weird thing to be smelling in a house of gloom. Cautiously, he made his way to the landing door. Yes, the fresh cookie smell was coming from there. He inched the door open so it wouldn't make a sound and crept down the stairs. He slipped over to stand in the same spot he had when watching the movers and stared into the kitchen. His long black hair hung around him like a shield blocking the outside world, and his bare feet hadn't made a sound. He stood there, dressed in black, very much like a cheap jump scare in a tacky horror movie as he watched Lulu bustle about.
 
Lulu hummed a cheerful tune, dancing on the spot in a beam of sunlight coming through the window as she sifted flour into a bowl. Her hair was pulled out of the way in a bouncy ponytail and the only thing really missing to the picture would have been a pretty apron over the short jeans overalls she was wearing. Lacking such protection had already resulted in several smears of flour on her clothes and skin, which she had yet to notice.

She hadn’t been able to decide what kind of cookies to bake; so had made simple chocolate chips first and was now making dough for orange sugar cookies which would be fun to decorate later. She was so absorbed in her work and Irie was so quiet that she didn’t notice him for quite some time. While the idea of cookies had originally been born of the wish to get her roommate downstairs, she had quite forgotten that goal as she immersed herself in the fun of baking.

She stooped to the oven to replace the finished sheet of cookies with a fresh one and placed the hot baking sheet on the counter to cool. Still half dancing, she did a little twirl on the way back to the sugar cookie dough, spotted the shadow lurking near the stairs mid-spin and nearly fell over as she came to a sudden halt.

“Oh you startled me!” The original aim for all the baking came flooding back into her brain at the sight of him, and she couldn’t help the smile that almost split her face from ear to ear. It had worked! “Would you like a cookie?”
 
It was... hypnotizing. Her little dance, the twirling, the swaying, and, most importantly, the bouncing of the perky ponytail. His eyes followed every bouce, sway, and bob. Hair was rather fascinating when tied back like that. He realized his own head was swaying in time with her hair and forced himself to stop.

Then she spotted him and almost fell over with a yelp. "Oh, you startled me!" He expected to be yelled at, but then she grinned and asked, "Would you like a cookie?"

"Um," he replied, very intelligantly. He paused for a moment to gather himself. "I did not mean to intrude. I can go. The smell... um... it's nice." He started backing away cautiously, his heel finding the stair.
 
“You’re not intruding.” Lulu said quickly. She had only just lured him downstairs, no way was she letting him flee directly again. She wondered briefly how long he had been standing there. She had been so engrossed in what she was doing that he could have been watching her for quite a while. On the one hand, it was a creepy feeling, on the other, she was just glad he had come down. It had gotten almost a bit lonely, knowing someone was in the house but never seeing them.

“Do you want some?” She gestured to the plate of finished cookies. “I can’t eat this many by myself anyway. And they taste best when fresh.”
 
He edged forward cautiously and examined the plate. "What kind are they?" To be polite, he picked one up and looked it over. It was still warm, nicely round, and appeared to be an even level of doneness. He wasn't sure what other observations he should make beyond that, but for once, he was trying not to be rude.
 
“Chocolate Chip.” Lulu chirped in reply. “Its an old recipe from our neighbours at home. They gave me a copy when I moved out for college. I can’t make them quite as well as Carol does, but they’re still good. Or if you prefer, I’m doing orange sugar cookies too. Those will take a while though. You can help me decorate them if you like?” She added the last bit hopefully; despite being almost sure he would refuse and retreat back upstairs.
 
"I have never decorated cookies," Irie said. He was still investigating the chocolate chip cookie as if it were some strange museum display. He nibbled at the edge and tasted... mostly the faintest suggestion of ash, but with a hint of chocolate. He supposed that hint was worth the effort of eating. He finished the cookie. "I do not want to ruin your art."
 
Lulu almost dropped the spoon she had just picked up to continue stirring the cookie dough as she stared at him incredulously. “You’ve never…” Jeez, that sounded like one sad childhood. All manner of baking had been an almost weekly occurrence in her home growing up.

At his second comment, she had to laugh. “Theres no art involved in cookie decorating. Or well I suppose there can be, but not in the way my family does it. We’re not especially artistic. It’s just for fun and if things turn out really terrible, it’s just an excuse to eat them all the faster so no one has to see.” She was also very gratified to see that he had finished the cookie in his hand.
 
"Cookie decorating is a family thing?" Irie asked, mystified. He inched forward to take a look at the cookies spread out all over the kitchen. "I thought cookies came decorated by machines. Or by professional pastry chefs."

Irie's family did not cook. They did not bake. If they did art, they did classical art. They did not get messy, and they were not artists, per se, as artists were nothing more than grubby hippies trying to get three hundred dollars for a fifty cent picture. Did Irie hold to everything his family had believed? Not exactly... but when you are taught things your entire life, it could come out in subtle ways you would never even notice.
 
“Sure. Family, friends, roommates, whoever wants to.” Lulu beamed as Irie shuffled closer. Mission lure-with-cookies seemed to be a resounding success so far. Done with the dough, she dusted the counter top liberally in flour, plonked the golden blob squarely in the middle and hefted the rolling pin.

“Like I said, these will hardly look like they come from a machine or a patisserie, but they taste all the better for it if you ask me.” She pushed a strand of hair away from her face, leaving a trail of flour over one eye before returning to rolling out the dough to an even thickness.

“Pick some shapes out if you like.” She nodded at an open tin filled with cutters in various shapes.
 
Irie started to point. "You have flour, uh..." He dropped his finger. "Never mind. Flour. Whiteness." He turned back to the dough and realized his own long, black hair was in danger of brushing through the four and getting doughed.

"I should leave you to your cooking," he said, backing up again. "I'll get hair in the... dough stuff." The idea of pulling back his hair didn't even occur to him.
 
“Are you sure you don’t want to join in?” Lulu fought to keep the disappointment out of her voice. So much for Mission lure-with-cookies… Still, she wasn’t giving up that easily.

“I can get you a hair tie. Hair in the dough isn’t that bad, it’s pretty easy to get out, but icing is some of the stickiest stuff I’ve ever encountered.” An image of Irie with his raven hair in elvish braids popped into her mind and she had to stifle a giggle. But a more simple horse tail might actually suit him. Lulu couldn’t quite fathom how he got through the day with his hair perpetually hanging in his face, as it seemed to always do whenever she saw him.
 
Irie turned to stare at Lulu. A tie? For his hair? Oh... yes... that was rather obvious, wasn't it?

"I suppose if you really desire the help, I could lend you some aid," he agreed, his words slow and careful. "I should wash my hands while you get the... tie."

He was still questioning why he had agreed to do this as he went to the sink and washed up, but she was so nice, and she seemed so disappointed when he'd started to back away that he felt guilted into joining. Perhaps once she saw his unpracticed hand, she would not ask him next time.
 
As Irie washed his hands, Lulu skipped into her bathroom to find a hair tie, internally squealing at her success. Finding a dark purple coloured one in a drawer, she headed back to the kitchen.

“Here you go.” She said brightly, holding out the tie to Irie who was standing a little uncertainly next to the sink. She hesitated for a moment, not wanting to sound patronising or anything, but then steeled herself and asked, “Can you manage or shall I help you?” He didn’t seem to be someone who knew how to tie a ponytail, strange as that was.
 
"Don't touch, I can do it!" The words flew out before Irie could process how they sounded. He hesitated then said slowly, "That is... I am sure I can work out how to use it. Thank you for the offer of help." He inched toward her and held out his hand flat for her to drop the tie into his hand. He did not want her touching him even to tie back his hair! Maybe he could actually use the help, but he was not going to admit that right now.
 
“O-ok.” Iries first rebuttal had come out quite harshly, rather startling Lulu despite his attempts to sound more placid afterwards. She had never met a person who shied away from contact, physical or otherwise, as much as he did. What had happened to him? Noone was like that without reason.

She closed the gap between them and gently placed the hair tie in his palm, the tips of her fingers brushing his skin as she drew back. At the touch a tiny golden spark flared, not visible from where Lulu was standing but noticeable from Iries position, and a flare of heat shot up both their arms, much like the small shocks one might get from a metal object.

Lulu pulled back quickly with a small “Eep” of surprise. Rubbing her hand, she muttered “Where did that static come from?” She rubbed her hand against her overall then experimentally tapped one of the metal cookie cutters on the counter. No shock this time. Probably all discharged already. Thinking nothing more of it, she started sorting through the tin of cutters, picking out a few she wanted to make before nudging the tin in Iries direction and turning to check on how he was coping with the hair tie.
 
Irie stared at his hand, his vision blurring slightly as he fought to keep his body corporeal. His outline shimmered for a moment... then he got everything under control and forced himself solid once more. WHAT WAS THAT??? He'd never felt anything like it! Never! Could it be? No, that was not possible. Was it? No. Not possible? He snuck a look at Lulu. There was no way that cheerful little bunny rabbit packed that kind of power. Could she?

Whatever she was, she was waiting for him, and he could not tip her off that anything was wrong. Hurriedly, he dragged his fingers through his hair and pulled it back into an awkward ponytail. His scalp felt weird with his hair pulling all sorts of weird directions, but it would work, and it didn't hurt, so he'd deal with it. He tucked a few wayward strands into the band then turned to face Lulu.

His narrow, sharp features were finally revealed, and yet even without the hair in place, there was something shadowed about his features. It was as if shadows literally clung to his prominent cheekbones, pooled in his hollow cheeks, and lurked around his eyes. As Lulu had noted when she first arrived, Irie's features were not especially masculine, they were still distinctly male. There was something vaguely "Tom Hiddleston" about his face, perhaps young and in a vampiric role, like in Only Lovers Left Alive, or a lonely Loki. If either of those two roles had involved losing a bit of weight and moaping.

((Disclaimer, I have never seen "Only Lovers Left Alive," just found his picture as a vampire and found it from there.))
 
Lulu, oblivious to the minor existential crisis that had just taken place behind her back, had to giggle at the sight of the sad excuse for a ponytail Irie had managed to wrangle his hair into. She somehow doubted she would be getting that particular hair tie back in one piece. It gave her the first proper glimpse of his face since the day she had moved in. Once again she noted how gaunt and grey his face looked. Was it just a lack of sunshine or something worse? Biting her lip to keep a straight face, she asked, “Ready to go? What shapes do you want to make?”

As she picked out a star shaped cutter and sunk it deftly into the dough, Lulu asked, “So you’ve really never made cookies before? What did your family do for Christmas or Easter?”
 
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